Stardust
by Pappillon
Summary: White Diamond introduces Yellow to Homeworld.


They were facing the window, where the crowd had gathered early. Somewhat arranged by color, the gems looked like the rainbow beaming from a prism, an open fan. The divides between each section were perfect, Peridots with Peridots, Quartzes with Quartzes. Only nobles made the occasional discoloration, a tinge of blue or inappropriate peach amid a sea of monochromatic pink.

Yellow could almost hear them stories below, chatting, gossiping. None had seen her yet, and the palpable curiosity thickened the air like humidity, which White interrupted by rummaging through her case. Small (for her hands) tubes and color palettes tapped against one another. The handle of a brush she had slotted between fingers collided with each new thing as her perfume wafted over.

"Are you nervous?" She approached, lining up the cases of pigment upon the side table, as if they were amulets in that order for a spell. She gripped one between her index and thumb, with long, glossy nails. "You shouldn't be. They're going to be elated. What's more, they didn't even have to wait. For them, it was as simple as hearing the news, but I watched you throughout every step of the process. It doesn't quite feel real, that you're sitting here, finally."

She had dressed in her floor-length cloak, black but sparkling with silver embellishments replicating stars. Her arm, cutting through it so she could touch Yellow's chin, revealed her gown underneath, whose sequins glinted red, yellow, blue, or green, depending on the angle.

She had worn something similar the day they met, arriving and touching her chin, just like that.

"I can't believe it either," Yellow said.

White smiled without revealing her teeth, and finally opened a compact of dark golden powder.

Yellow closed her eyes as a spongy applicator afflicted her right lid.

"I had intended to wait until Blue emerged," she distributed the color, "in order to introduce you both at the same time, but it seems she's a little late." She moved to the left. "I had actually anticipated you today, but you couldn't wait a moment longer after so many millennia."

The compact tapped on the table as White switched to something else, something whose cap unscrewed and whose tip produced a cold sensation along her lashes. Yellow flinched and received a hand to the shoulder.

"None of that, now. You wouldn't want me to start over."

"No, I wouldn't."

White laughed. "You're not the sort of gem to enjoy this; I knew that from the beginning, but I thank you for tolerating it, for my sake."

Yellow nearly opened her eyes, but managed not to, even with White's steady breathing tickling her lashes. "You could have had the Pearls do this."

"I could have," she answered and continued. Both remained quiet until Yellow's face had been adequately painted. At the end, White pinched her cheeks, saying, "I know you're not a fan of these powders, but this should work just as well," and presented Yellow with a mirror.

The glass reflected someone that was her, but not quite. The new version was an empress lavished in gold, owning everything, despite not setting so much as one foot onto her first colony. No one could tell. They wouldn't be able to advance past the sharp wings of her eyeliner, or the protective spike of every dark lash.

Yellow looked up to White and found her irises reflecting gold.

"Are you ready, My Diamond?" White said with a smirk and held out her hand, which Yellow's disappeared into. Their heels tapped in unison to the balcony, where the cheering and the din devoured any subtler sound.

Millenia later, there were no more crowds. Blue had emerged and Pink had died. Now, White sat by her window, lights flickering overhead. They flashed in and out like ghosts, sometimes constant for minutes until blackening, only to violently resurrect. The electricity produced an asthmatic whirring as it struggled.

All of Homeworld flashed that way, until a certain point when everything was dark, stretching on as if there was no separation between wild space and the capital.

What kept them from bleeding together was the statue of White in the center. Enormous, it would reflect back even the descending night, absorbing the tones of the royal purple and burnt pink sky. Luxury no longer placed over utility; its enormity would serve as a beacon on the hungriest nights.

But not yet; a divot waited empty in the statue's forehead.

Unable to look any longer, White turned to Yellow, both wearing the same brand of designer bags beneath their eyes. Holding out a hand, White beckoned her. "Come sit with me, won't you?"

Yellow took the nearest spot and White took her hand, loosely this time, claiming only three of her fingers.

White only wore a robe, and Yellow traced over her knuckles.

"There must be another solution."

"Perhaps, but I'm old, and have seen enough. I have no doubt that the both of you know exactly what to do. I'm not concerned." White glanced out the window, eyes reflecting nothing. "I just ask that you watch over her. She needs you."

"I will," Yellow said, and they waited with the uneasy humming of the electricity.

Blue finally arrived, masking her sorrow beneath her veil. Yellow and White came to wrap their arms around her, wiping her tears. "Surely you don't have to do this," she said, but White merely kissed her forehead.

"We shouldn't drag this on any longer. I've been hurting all day, and now it's time. Come, Yellow." She kissed Blue on the left cheek and Yellow on the right, stepping back to clear a runway between them. Hand flat beneath her breast, she said, "Right here, I want you to slot your sword. I'm prepared when you are."

"Yes, My Diamond," but Yellow stood in place, hands shaking as White waited and Blue wept.

Her blade trapped in her heart, her shaking hand moved upward as the handle emerged. Static droned in the background. The lights clicked on and off. They fought the rolling blackouts like a creature battling the embrace of death, and in the unreliable glow, White looked on at Yellow, unchanged.

Her expression didn't alter even when Yellow drew the blade. For a moment, she kept it at her side, its tip unable to point as it dipped and quivered.

Yellow swallowed a sob as the lights went out. It was then that she felt a hand upon her own, engulfing it, moving the blade through the air and into something solid. Her fingers hurt as they gripped the handle nearly hard enough to break it, and White—turning to stardust—lit up the room.

She had left her hand upon Yellow's shoulder, which was the last to go as her gem collided with the floor.

The light came back and Yellow was crying.

"I couldn't do it—" Her sword fell. "She—"

Blue embraced her and they wept together, unable to see White's gem with their unsteady eyes, even though the lights remained.


End file.
